


The Sun and the Moon

by 80sGayTrashGoblin



Category: Voltron: Lion Force (1984)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Excessive Worldbuilding, Exposition, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lesbian Allura (Voltron), Minor Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poverty, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28064484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/80sGayTrashGoblin/pseuds/80sGayTrashGoblin
Summary: This is the story of a young woman, who decided to take a chance and leave her home, looking for a better life. This is the story of a young woman who crosses paths with someone accidentally, and then gets entangled in a web of politics, action, and war. This is her story, so will she write a tragic one or a hopeful one?One thing's for certain, she's the moon, following the pull of her sun.
Relationships: Allura (Voltron)/Original Female Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Kudos: 5





	The Sun and the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> SO- All my friends are writing self insert fics, and I caved and decided to write one about my own self insert. Because why not. It's 2020 and any common sense or sanity has left my brain, so enjoy the mess. 
> 
> This first chapter is all just exposition and set up, btw.

“What would you like sir?” CJ asked politely. She was quite a sight: bright purple hair in an undercut with black hair on the sides, pink eyes, fangs and pointy ears contrasted by the bright blue and white waitress uniform and the bandana tied over the tattoo on her arm. She held the notepad in her hands gently, pen tapping rhythmically on it, and a fake smile plastered on her face. 

The man sighed, dropping the menu and pushing an empty bottle forward. “Another Bud Light, and a Jumper Burger.” His eyes held bags under them, which wasn’t an uncommon sight. Despite the image that the joint tried to project as a nice way to revisit the 1950s, the patron’s told a different story. 

Rampant alcoholism aside, he was one of the better customers. Most of the men who stopped by sexually harassed her or made blatently xenophobic and/or homophobic remarks, and the women were just as bad (although they didn’t harass her). It was the downside of opening a burger joint in the slums of New Chicago: you attracted the nasty patrons. 

But that’s the only job she could get where she could live, so CJ slipped away from the table, walking back to the chef and slipping the order to him. She checked the clock, finding that that’s the end of her ship, especially when she saw Megan enter from the back. “My shift’s off, Levin,” she said plainly, and the chef huffed back at her. 

CJ went through the routine monotonically. Put the notepad and pen in her locker, grab her bag, change into her normal clothes, then lock it all up and leave. Her new outfit was a dark grey hoodie and some dark jeans, because it’s better to blend in than to attract attention. Flipping up her hood, she exited the back entrance, slipping out of the alley and onto the main street. 

The people who lived in the Grey District of New Chicago were the poor, the criminal, or the immigrants. She fit into the first and last one: living in a rundown apartment by herself with her daughter after having escaped the Drule slave pits when she was young. She never met her family: her mother died in childbirth and her father was a faceless Drule guard. She was a descendent of some of the humans who were employed by the Galaxy Garrison and were forced into slavery after being captured by the Drule. She’s lived on Earth for the rest of her life. 

CJ sighed, opening the door and shutting it behind her. She was home. She hardly had any furniture, but she didn’t really need it: she had kitchen appliances and a coffee table on a rug to eat at. She had a cheap bed and a bathroom. She had a large space to practice her dances and Krav Maga and keep herself in shape. 

Speaking of which, her next practice is in an hour. 

She smiled as a Maine Coon cat came up to greet her, rubbing up against her ankles and purring as she was pet. Her daughter, Heather, was always good at coming to meet her when CJ got home. 

“Hi, baby girl,” she knelt down, giving Heather a kiss on the head. “I have to go to practice soon, alright?”

In addition to working as a waitress, she also performed in a dance troupe. Together, the income wasn’t much, but it was enough to pay rent and keep food on the tale, and that was enough. She got satisfaction out of performing, even if the other dancers were snotty and rude as hell, and the money kept them afloat. 

She got up, dropping the bag on her bed in the bedroom before grabbing a second bag, one with the dance troupe and her name sewn into it. She needed to get to practice, their recital was coming up soon. She said goodbye to her daughter, and headed off. 

It wasn’t much, but she was satisfied with it. 

* * *

“Hey, CJ,” Raven high fived her as she came in for another shift. They weren’t on the same shift, and they weren’t really friends, but their shifts ended and began at the same time, and they were friendly. “What’s up?” 

“Same old, same old,” the girl grinned, her fangs showing as she tied on the bandana. 

“Seriously, you don’t have to wear the bandana,” Raven tried to sneak a peek, but backed away at CJ’s glare. “I mean, look at me.” 

She just spared her a side glance before shoving her bag into her locker. While Raven did have a full sleeve of tattoos on her left arm, professionalism isn’t why CJ chose to hide hers. 

“I told you, I’m not showing you it.” 

Raven rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.” She pulled out her smart phone though, pulling up something. “By the way, have you heard the news?” 

“Mayor Brewdie getting assassinated last night? Yeah, I heard. Fucker had it coming.” 

“No, not that.” CJ perked up at that. It’s not often that a piece of noteworthy news that wasn’t related to crime passed through the Grey District. “Come here.” 

She shuffled over, looking over the girl’s shoulder at her screen. “Arus hits the intergalactic consciousness, as Voltron is rediscovered and Arus is in the process of rebuilding? By the BBC?”

“They’re in a war with the Galra Kingdom currently, it’s all the talk,” Raven scrolled through the article. “Apparently this happened because some Explorer Team crashed onto the planet and started piloting the robot. And they were declared MIA already, so they just decided to stay and help the Acting Queen rebuild. I mean, isn’t that wild?” 

“Yeah, isn’t it wild that the GG would declare a team dead when they were captured by the Drule,” CJ deadpanned, and Raven rolled her eyes. 

“Word is that people are going to be boarding shuttles. Passage is dangerous, so the prices are low. And they’re taking in immigrants from other Drule conquered planets too, so it’s perfect.” 

“What, you thinking of going?” CJ raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I am,” Raven grinned, the brightest she’d seen anyone in the district smile. She recognized that dangerous expression: hope. 

CJ sighed, looking at the clock. “Well, good luck,” she said sincerely, to the closest person she could call a friend on this planet. “My shift’s up.” 

Raven waved goodbye, as she braced herself for another day of work. 

* * *

“Wait a minute, I’m being evicted?!” CJ shouted over the phone, startling Heather into jumping off the couch. 

“Look, a different guy has offered to pay rent more steadily than you do,” the landlord said. 

“I’ve always come through though!” 

“Like a week later.” CJ winced, and the landlord kept talking. “You’re evicted, that’s final. You have until tomorrow to get everything out of there, and anything you leave behind is being sold.” 

“You bastard!” She shouted, but the landlord had hung up. She nearly threw her phone, but it was the most expensive thing she owned, so she just curled up on the floor instead. 

_Mrow?_ She looked up at Heather, who stood in front of her and was nuzzling her legs. She gave her daughter an unsteady smile, then reached her head out. Heather bumped her head into her hand, and CJ took a few minutes to give her daughter some attention. 

After a pet session and a few minutes of deep breathing, she stood up, looking around and evaluating what she needs. She got her bags and her luggage, and got to work. 

* * *

Thankfully, Heather was well trained, and she stayed on her shoulder the entire time. CJ was covered in bags, pulling along a luggage case behind her. They were making their way to the New Chicago Travel Docks. It was its own mini city, with its own good side and bad side. Unfortunately, the only transports to Arus were in the middle, which was uncharted territory for her. 

There weren’t a lot of ships ferrying people to Arus, only three. A big spacious ship was clearly getting all of the attention, while the two smaller ships still had its fair share of visitors. 

She stood there, evaluating the situation, when Heather perked up. Her head swiveled, and CJ looked too. She saw a strange ilkie woman, watching her, and when they locked eyes, she made a ‘follow me’ gesture. 

The woman was clearly going to rob her, or murder her, or both. Against any common sense whatsoever, she followed her. 

She ended up in a hangar, with a falcon shaped ship in front of her. The ilkie woman gestured for her to come here with her tentacle hair thingy (CJ never bothered to learn what it was called) and she did. 

“You look like the kind who always found themselves at the bottom of the food chain,” the woman said, her eyes piercing into her gaze. “Tell me, are you good with ship mechanics?” 

“I- what- uh- yeah, I am. Wires and engine stuff, and, yeah.” 

The woman grinned. “Good. My crew just ran off on me, and that’s not very good in my line of work.” 

“Pirate?” She asked, one eyebrow raised. 

A hint of surprise went across her face. “Oh? How did you know?” 

CJ shrugged. “I’ve worked enough with them in the past to recognize them when I see them.” 

The woman grinned, swinging a shoulder over her shoulders and dragging her along, shamelessly getting pets in while they went. “Then you and I should get along excellently. We’ve got the rest of a crew cobbled together, so we could take off for Arus right now.” 

CJ smiled, then planted a kiss on her daughter's head. Maybe things were finally looking up for her. 

* * *

All things considered, the trip went smoothly. 

The things to be considered were the rest of the crew deciding to sell them out to the Drule, having to fight them off (thank GOD she got fighting lessons from Drule slave pits, those fuckers never stood a chance), then limping to Arus on whatever CJ could duct tape into place. 

In that time, she learned more about her travel buddy. Her name was Zairai, and she spent many years as a pirate, but her latest crew ditching her was the last straw. She decided to start over on Arus, as the Arusian Army had positions open for Captains. She was hoping to get a position and settle down with a nice lady, live a relatively peaceful life. 

CJ didn’t really know what she hoped for. 

They were friends, so she showed her what was under the bandana. The Drule brand that she’s had for as long as she can remember. In turn Zairai showed her the scar on her back, and how she got it from an accident on the mining colony she was forced to work on when she was nine, until she was picked up by a pirate crew. 

It was the closest she’d ever been to someone in a long time. 

She slung her bag over her shoulder (bag, singular, because one of their traitorous crewmates had a Extenda bag, so she could fit her many bags and luggage into one backpack) and gave Heather scritches as Zairai gently landed the ship onto the ground. There was no docking bay, no lasers, no nothing: just a large patch of dirt which was partitioned off by rope fence and a worker with a comms system in front of her. 

“Thank you for cooperating, SS Lion,” the worker’s voice crackled over the comms. “Enjoy your stay on Arus.” 

Heather was perched on her shoulder as CJ walked through the cargo hold of the ship, watching as the landing ramp opened. The air was clear and the sun was bright, starkly different from the Grey District. She could hear the birds chirping and the town in the distance. 

Taking a deep breath in, she smiled. Yes, things were finally turning up for them. 


End file.
